heartworm
by Adreus
Summary: a dick/zatanna collection — 4, natsukashii: "a feeling of nostalgia triggered by something small—a song, a shoe, a letter—that takes you back on a wistful trip to a time that has passed, where everything seems the same—the smell of the air and the look of the location—but all is now different and the memory rose-tinted"
1. heartworm

**Notes: **I'm so tired tonight, YJ fandom. Sometimes I just need a dose of my favorite duo, and sometimes you just don't deliver.

This is a fic collection; anytime I write Dick/Zee fic based on a certain word or quote, I'll post it here.

* * *

_heartworm_

_n_. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire

* * *

So he's actually kind of still in love with her. It pisses him off.

It's, like, he'll be pacing his apartment in Bludhaven or he'll be watching Tim work on something at the Batcave or he'll just be sitting on a stool at the Cave, plotting something out, and as he's trying to plot he's listing out options in his head, and there's always that one option that's definitely not the best one but it involves _her_ and that's why he wants to use it. Because, okay, come _on: _he doesn't see her that often anymore and he's not even going to bother to lie and say she isn't beautiful, because, yeah, okay, all of the girls he knows are beautiful, but there's just this otherworldly light that shimmers around her and he's still not sure if it's a spell she's put on him or if it's a spell his eyes have put on her.

He shakes his head and tries to focus on whatever task's at hand, but he can never remember what the task at hand _was_, so he sighs and just ends up thinking about her again. Her laugh, her voice, the last thing they've said to each other: It's usually something stupid or business-related, like _hey, can you put a spell on this necklace for me? _or _the Atom's looking for you, coming to the meeting or what? _or sometimes even _you can always join us up here, _but even if he can complain he can't do much about it, because everything's so hectic lately. Life is storming and they've made their decisions and so what if it's never _hey, can you help me get you out of my head _or _I miss you so much it should be illegal_ or _you can always join me here_?

So maybe he was wrong when he thought this was a good idea. So maybe it terrified him when Tula died, and maybe it hurt him when Artemis and Wally disappeared, and maybe it broke him a little when Conner and M'gann broke up, but maybe—maybe—

Who was he _kidding_? There's no point to this. There was no point to their thinking of walking in separate directions, of lying to themselves though not to each other, of creating a distance that otherwise would not have been created.

—(_because if I still love you like this and you go, I'll lose myself)—__  
_

Things can get scary and the world can get darker, but a distance so false and so fragile might as well not exist, and his feelings, unfortunately, don't waver.


	2. freols

_freols_

_n_. a time of freedom; a day free form work

* * *

He was whistling the first day he walked into his new apartment in Blüdhaven, swinging the keys around on the lanyard and bubbling with a naïve excitement, like a fluttery ball of feathers that's taken off in flight for the first time, feels the tickling sensation that is freedom's embrace. He remembers when he first came here: it was all sparkly and new and he'd put a table here and a picture frame there, but the first impression's melted into a blurry mess in his mind's eye and now it's months later and it's the same as it was a week into his moving and Wayne Manor is still listed as _Home _on his phone. The night sky is grey and the air is murky and he hasn't showered in two days, and Nightwing puts the key into the lock, turns the knob, and walks into his empty kitchen. His stomach grumbles at the sight of the fridge, but he shakes his head, knowing that there's nothing inside, and he saunters miserably to the couch, sets down his things, and collapses there, too drained to even dream.

He wakes up what feels like a minute later to loud knocking at his door and someone calling his name, and he's up and he's alert because where is he, what's the matter, where's he dozed off now, who's done what while he's disappeared-? But he realizes where he is and what's happened when the knocker calls out _Dick _and not _Nightwing_, when he remembers his phone is dead and there's no alarm clock and, oh, man, here's a new question: how long has been out? The knocking gets louder and faster and the shouting gets louder and he thinks he recognizes the voice but he's too preoccupied with stripping off his costume and changing into something suitable for common company so he doesn't try to figure out who it is, only shouts back, "Just a minute!", and he pulls on an old shirt and opens the door.

Zatanna's standing there, one hand on her hip and the other about to knock on his face, and she's tall and she's concerned and she's upset, and he says, "Zee," and she says, "Dick?", and he blinks a few times so maybe he'll look more awake and he sighs and steps out of the way so she can come inside. She's wearing these heels that click and clack on the hardwood and when he shuts the door she's still standing, appraising his room and his couch and his table and his curtains and his lack of anything else.

"Nice place you've got here," she remarks, and he'd laugh if there wasn't a weight holding down his smile.

"Wish I'd had it before," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It's gross and he makes a face and is infinitely thankful that Zatanna doesn't comment on it.

She's seen him worse, anyway.

"So what am I in for?" he asks, because lately their conversations have been _hey so aliens _or _I need some help with this mission _or _Batman wanted me to tell you that_, so if she's here there's a reason and a rhyme. She doesn't answer at first; her eyes have spotted his phone on the coffee table and he knows what she's thinking, so he grunts and swipes it up and puts it on a charger, where it doesn't even light up because it hasn't got an ounce of power left._  
_

"I just... wanted to see you," she says finally, and he winces, because, well, uh, that's...

"Oh," he says, and he kind of misses her.

She smiles at him then, sincere, kind, beautiful, but there's this sadness lurking in her eyes and she explains, "You've been so busy with the Team and everything else lately that when you didn't pick up, I was... a little worried." She comes a little closer to him, and for a moment he forgets where and when he is again, and she continues, "You have this habit of taking up the 'cold leader' mantle and not telling anyone how you actually feel about it. So I came here to see how you're doing."

Well, he thinks, telling someone how he actually feels would ruin the whole 'cold leader' thing, wouldn't it? "Zatanna..."

"So," she asks, sitting on his sofa and swinging her legs back and forth, "How are you doing?"

He shakes his head and sits down next to her, smiles tiredly, and so maybe his apartment starts to feel a little more like a home.


	3. gibel

_gibel_

_n_. not death, not suicide, but simply ceasing to exist; deteriorating in a way that is painful for others

* * *

He likes making her smile. She's got this cute little grin that lights up her entire face and lifts her cheeks and it makes her impossibly pretty and he likes more than it sneaking up on him when it sneaks up on _her_, because she's so taken aback by the fact that she's smiling, as though she's forgotten how to. There's a weight that falls squarely onto his shoulders the night her father ceases to be who he once was, a knot on the right side of his back that makes moving into a chore and has him craving hot chocolate and a comfortable spot near a fire place, where he can hide his face in a blanket and disappear from the world because his heart is quaking and it makes his head spin.

He finds her when she's alone and it aches that he can't tell her _I understand, _but it's for the better, he supposes, because then he's not making this about him. Instead, it's about her; it's about sneaking up on her with unexpected jokes and smiling at her when she accidentally catches his eye across the room, and it's about knocking on her door at lonely hours of the evening, offering her a cup of hot chocolate, and going on a walk in the brisk night air. It's about holding her hand when it's shivering and letting her cry when she needs to, it's about being there, it's about being the light that she needs to keep sight of, it's about kindling the flame inside her back to its brighter intensity.

Brightness suits her better, anyway.


	4. natsukashii

**Notes:** Zatanna and Dick made out in the latest comic and there are no new fic. Fandom, what even?

I wrote this definition, so if you disagree with it, that's my fault.

* * *

_natsukashii_

_adj_. a feeling of nostalgia triggered by something small—a song, a shoe, a letter—that takes you back on a wistful trip to a time that has passed, where everything seems the same—the smell of the air and the look of the location—but all is now different and the memory rose-tinted

* * *

Zatanna, of course, has turned this into some kind of tradition. She's known him for five birthdays and kissed him on all of them, first soft and unexpected (but of course completely welcome) on his cheek; then something longer and lingering, a spark left behind; and as he turns sixteen it only gets better and longer and sexier, and she never fails to do it, never fails to find him on his birthday, whether he's in Gotham or at the Cave or with her or someone else, because it's just a thing they do, and no one's going to stop it.

They start these sort of traditions the first year they know each other: a kiss on his birthday, hide-and-seek at Christmas, seeing the most ridiculous romantic fantasy movies together because he wants to be able to make fun of it and she wants to be able to make fun of it and they're not going to be the loser who goes in alone and watches it with tight lips. It's almost automatic, the way he texts her when he sees her birthday on the clock or the way she always announces to him when she's having an iced latte, and its these nuances, these things that are totally and completely _them_, that make him blink and stare blankly at the air when they're no longer "officially" together.

He still loves her, though, whether romantically or aromantically, and she still loves him, so it doesn't stop, and even when he has a new girlfriend and she has a new boyfriend she still kisses him on his birthday (on the cheek, this time, and his smile is soft at that) and play hide-and-seek at Christmas and set dates for the latest _Twilight_ movie without their significant others. Because that's what they do, the two of them, that's what they've _been _doing, and if there's two people you don't stop from doing what they do it's Zatanna and Dick.

(When he's _finally _single again on his birthday she gets to kiss him properly on the lips again, and it feels good, feels really good, and, yeah, fine, he admits, her whispering things backwards in his ear was one of those things they _did_ have to stop, and he misses it).


End file.
